


the one where kurt gets his first kiss from a gryffindor and it's great and santana is the worst best friend ever

by preromantics



Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, First Kiss, M/M, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what it says on the title. A little snippet of a much larger Hogwarts AU 'verse!</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where kurt gets his first kiss from a gryffindor and it's great and santana is the worst best friend ever

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 5/19/11.

When Blaine clears his throat for the third time, Kurt forgets about planning well-timed glances and looks up from his essay despite the fact he knows Blaine will be looking back at him. 

"We're wasting practicing time," Blaine says, leaning back in his chair across the table. Kurt thinks he might be going for an intimidating look, but mostly he looks about a second away from falling over the back of his chair and onto his ass. 

Right, Kurt wasn't going to think about Blaine's ass again today. 

"I have a half foot left on this," Kurt says, tapping his quill against the side of his face. "You're the one who demanded we practice tonight."

Blaine makes a face. "I didn't demand anything," he says, and Kurt can't really tell if he's mock offended or genuinely offended, because, right, like Gryffindors never demand anything.

"You could leave," Kurt suggests. "Or do some homework. Or leave." The leaving part is what Kurt is on board with. There is no reason his three foot essay on the merits of using simple sewing charms on enhanced magical apparel should be taking him over three hours to complete, except having Blaine across from him is -- distracting. 

"But I'm so enthralled with watching you work, Kurt Hummel," Blaine says. 

Kurt narrows his eyes across the table before going back to his essay, determinedly ignoring the tapping of Blaine's fingers on the table and the way he goes in and out of a low hum, stopping and starting bits of familiar songs like he can't help but try and let the music in his head out. 

Kurt's conclusion is not his finest work. He hopes the blotchy patches of ink from where he kept his quill in one place for too long, where he was distracted by Blaine humming or swallowing or scratching at the stubble lightly shadowing his chin -- a feature new to Kurt, now that it's late at night and Kurt has really only ever seen Blaine during classes or at the inter-house Glee meetings or matches, so it's suitably distracting -- won't count against him. He knows the hastily but very thoroughly scratched off sentences where he'd meant to write about how cutting true silks, especially heavy-weight blends, with magic was just a definite no and instead written a paragraph about stupid singing guys with stupid ideas about unity and stupid faces. 

"Finally," Blaine says, before Kurt even so much as gets an inch of his parchment rolled up. 

Kurt sucks in a breath through his nose before he tucks all of his things away. Whoever paired them up on this assignment is going to suffer a very slow death or maybe just a really bad acne jinx at his hand. (His money is on Santana or possibly Puck, since his not at all inspiring you-should-be-getting-laid-my-dude speech last week had made Kurt entirely suspicious of his motivations towards their tentative friendship, or possibly even Blaine, which actually makes a lot of sense -- wow.)

"Again," Kurt says, "you could've come back when I was done writing." He's maybe a little secretly pleased that Blaine stayed, despite his horrible distracting tendencies, and the thought slips through Kurt's filter before he gets a chance to tramp it out, so he's pretty sure Blaine catches a little bit of his flush. 

"Again," Blaine says, emphasizing the word, "you're cute to watch when you're being all studious. It wasn't much of a problem."

"I thought I was enthralling," Kurt says, before that makes it through his filter.

Blaine's answering grin is a little unnerving, as is the hand he extends to Kurt when he walks around the table. "Practice time," Blaine says. 

Kurt stands and brushes past Blaine's hand, except Blaine keeps his hand extended, letting his knuckles brush over Kurt's forearm where his sleeves are rolled up from working at the table. Kurt can't help but swallow a little too noticeably, but he steps to the side, far enough away that Blaine can't reach him. 

"Lead the way," Kurt says, maybe a little breathless on accident. 

Blaine doesn't look at him for a moment, instead focusing on the skin of Kurt's forearm that he just brushed against, and Kurt tugs down his shirtsleeve with a raised eyebrow. 

"My pleasure," Blaine says, bowing a little, looking ridiculous enough for Kurt to laugh at him, sounding less derisive and more amused than he means to. 

Blaine leads them to the astronomy tower. 

Kurt levels him with a look. He knew about five minutes into Blaine's walk that this was the only place they could possibly be headed to, but -- still. "Really?" Kurt asks, shaking his head even as he hits the top step, following Blaine out onto the wide circular stone landing, the sky cloudy but still inexplicably silver-bright above them. 

"You know we can't practice here," Kurt says, stepping back for every step Blaine takes towards him. "It's not the right temperature for vocal control at all, and --"

Kurt reaches the low stone wall before he realizes it, and Blaine crowds him forward a little. 

"Absolutely not," Kurt says. "I'm not getting my first --" He trails off, momentarily stuck looking over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine probably wasn't even going to kiss him, since this is clearly all still some sort of strange joke, but Kurt definitely doesn't need Blaine knowing anything about his first kiss or lack there of. 

For a second, Blaine looks like he's going to try and say something serious and sincere, so Kurt glares at him. 

"It's romantic up here," Blaine says, easy. 

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Until you think of the thousands of other students who have probably had sex up here through-out the years. Yeah, that's super romantic Blaine, thanks for taking me up here in a really creepy secretive way, I really --"

Blaine reaches out, pressing two fingers against Kurt's parted lips and cutting him off. "It was worth a try," he says, something cheeky to his smile that Kurt doesn't understand, shadows thrown over his face in a way that Kurt can't decide constitutes as attractive or shady. Blaine keeps his fingers against Kurt's mouth for longer than Kurt can count, the pads of them pressing in just a little, and all Kurt wants to do is sort of suck them between his lips. He's even contemplating doing it, saying fuck it to the very valid reasons he can't quite remember concerning how giving in to Blaine Anderson's famous charms is a terrible idea, except Blaine takes his hand away and straightens up all at once, stepping back and gesturing back to the stairs. 

"We can actually go and practice now," he says, sounding more normal than Kurt feels. 

Kurt leans up from the wall -- he can't really remember when he put all his weight against it -- and shakes his head, mostly to clear it. "By the time we get to a practice room it will be pointless and past curfew," he says. 

Blaine's eyes crinkle around the corners. "You're afraid of breaking rules?" he asks. "You, Kurt Hummel, the person who has been getting routine detentions for uniform code violations since first year?"

"Fashion has no rules," Kurt says, quickly. He doesn't actually care about curfew, just -- practicing isn't really working out and a pair of good pajamas and some sort of hair conditioning hot oil treatment sound much better than whatever this is. (Blaine could use a hot oil treatment on his hair. At some point. Kurt really has to stop letting himself think.) 

"We could still practice up here," Blaine says, around a little bit of a laugh that sounds genuinely fond, something Kurt isn't used to hearing. "I know the conditions aren't ideal for our voices, but --"

"Fine," Kurt says, cutting him off. 

"-- and it's not really -- Oh. Great," Blaine says. 

It's still easy for Kurt to get a little shocked by the warmth in Blaine's voice, by the depth of it and how he's not the most technically sound singer in any of the house clubs, but how he's so sincere singing even their warm-up scales. Kurt can remember the inter-house cup match he went to as a first year, and how he'd somehow gotten stuck next to Blaine in the audience as they all watched. They didn't talk or even really make eye contact, too understanding of the differences in their houses and goals and friendships even then to even really bother, but Kurt kept getting pushed into his shoulder by the sway and dance of people around them while the Ravenclaw club was on stage, and he could feel more than hear the way Blaine was singing along, the vibrations traveling down Kurt's entire arm, making him warm. 

"You stopped singing," Blaine says. 

Kurt's mouth is open, but he must have stopped singing somewhere in the middle of their last scale. "I'm done warming up," he says, not really looking at Blaine. 

The song Blaine chose for their duet isn't Kurt's favorite, so the beginning starts out a little rough, both of them trying to find the perfect match between their voices until it clicks somewhere in the middle, and Kurt is left singing on instinct while trying not to be overwhelmed by hearing Blaine so closely, his voice directed almost entirely over Kurt's skin.

"We're gonna win," Blaine says when they finish their first time through, his voice too enthusiastic. 

"That last note was awful," Kurt says, mostly overlapping Blaine's words, and they get stuck looking at each other for a moment before Blaine laughs. 

"We're so good together," Blaine says, his face lit up. "I've -- this is going to sound stupid, but I've wanted to sing with you since I heard you during the first pre-competition team invitational in third year. You only had one line in your song, but, Kurt, you deserved to be singing the entire thing, I couldn't believe it."

Kurt leans back against the dip in the stone behind him, his elbows bending back to the top edge. He's not sure when he reached the wall or when he decided to either lean or slide down to the bottom, just that it happened. "Blaine," he says, and it comes out a little less annoyed than he intends. 

Across from him, Blaine shrugs. "It's true, though," he says. He pauses for a second, his mouth half-parted, and Kurt tries to look over his shoulder, where he can see the barest sliver of the moon lighting up the grounds hundreds of feet below, but he keeps getting drawn back to Blaine's face. 

Blaine sighs, outward and loud. "Look," he says, "I know you think -- whatever you think, I'm not going to pretend to understand you entirely, Kurt, but I understand a little. I know you're a lot braver than anyone gives you credit for here, and that you're intelligent and witty and anybody would be nuts to mess with you, because you're quietly scary. I know that you're skeptical and you think about things in a way I don't. I rush head first into things and jump without looking and most of the time I fall, but the point is, I've been watching you for years now and I jumped at this chance to get to know you better but you're just so difficult and --"

"Shut up," Kurt says, quiet and as steady as he can manage. 

Blaine shakes his head and steps forward, long strides that land him about two feet away from Kurt, not close enough to touch but close enough to see in detail. "In fifth year, when you -- and I know it was you -- jinxed me so my hair would fall out I realized two things: one, I really missed my hair, and two, every time I knew you were behind something that happened to me or some of us would plan stupid jokes to play on you and Santana and everyone, I only participated so you'd notice me. Except I didn't know that for the longest time."

When Kurt inhales he feels a little like the air gets stuck in his throat, cool and bitter night air. "Every time I heard you in class or in the hallways or in the great hall you were always complaining about your hair," Kurt says, all in a rush, though that's not what he should be addressing at all. "Which I always thought was ridiculous, since you have the best hair in the entire school."

Blaine ducks his head, one hand coming around the back of his neck. "I'm just trying to get you to understand my motivation, here," he says.

"You want to beat every single duet pair," Kurt says, nodding, feeling a little like grinning even though he doesn't know why. 

"Yes, but --"

"Then we should practice," Kurt says, "because quite frankly, I'd love to see the look on Rachel's face when we win by unanimous vote."

Kurt starts their song, more confident this time, and Blaine doesn't join in until the second verse. Kurt feels little light, though he attributes it to the cooling night air around them, and not how he's pretty sure he could actually close the space between himself and Blaine and maybe kiss him, and maybe -- okay, definitely -- Blaine would kiss back. Not that Kurt is ready for everything that would come with kissing Blaine, just. He could, is what Blaine was getting at, somewhere in his ridiculous speech that Kurt can't really remember at all. 

They actually run through the song more than a handful of times, and Kurt's throat feels dry and a little sore after their last round. 

Blaine yawns after his last note, covering his face with his hands when he sees that Kurt is watching, and Kurt feels like yawning, too. 

"We should probably --"

"Yeah."

Kurt swallows, dry, and shakes his head at himself, aware at how Blaine is watching him. He pulls his wand out from where it's tucked up his forearm in his sleeve and points between his lips, tipping his head back and just barely whispering augamenti before a stream of water fills his mouth, immediately satisfying. 

"Holy shit," Blaine says, quiet but loud enough for Kurt to catch, and he tips his head back up fast enough that some of the water from his wand drips down his face before the stream stops and he reaches up to wipe it off with the back of his hand, catching Blaine's awed expression as he does. 

"Oh," Kurt says, unnecessarily, dropping his hand from his mouth. 

Blaine eyes are a little too wide. "So," he says, his voice low in a way that makes Kurt want to roll his shoulders back against the stone behind him and maybe tilt his hips out a little, too. "We should -- we should practice tomorrow. Just so we're really ready." 

Kurt nods, tucking his wand back up his sleeve. "Yes," he agrees.

They both walk towards the stairs at the same time, shoulders bumping with it, and Kurt hears a nervous laugh at the contact and it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. 

Kurt takes the stairs first with Blaine one behind and much like the walk across the castle and up the tower, they don't talk for a minute.

Blaine clears his throat when they are both almost at the bottom of the stairs, though, and Kurt pauses just long enough to almost trip going down the last step. 

"That thing you said, earlier," Blaine says, words coming out in a deliberate sort of way, "how you didn't want your first kiss to be on the astronomy tower --"

Kurt raises his chin, turning and looking at Blaine on the last step behind him. "I never said that," he says. Which is true, he never actually finished his sentence. 

Blaine makes a face at him, shrugging. "I knew what you meant," he says, holding out a hand in front of Kurt's face before he even opens his mouth. "I'd really like to kiss you now, if this location suits you better."

Though he isn't sure why, considering Blaine as a person and the events of the night, Kurt really, really wasn't expecting that. "I --" he starts, and the only word in his head is yes so he ends up sort of jerkily nodding. 

And then Blaine is stepping down from the last step and reaching out to cup the side of Kurt's face in his hand and then they're kissing, Blaine's lips a soft drag across his own, his hand warm and heavy and big. It makes Kurt flex his fingers at his sides and tilt his head down for a better angle, though he's not entirely sure what he's doing, and when Blaine parts his lips just a little, fitting Kurt's top lip between his own, Kurt doesn't know what to do except what he wants to do, which is raise one hand to grasp at Blaine's hips and push him back until he's pressed against the curved wall at the edge of the stairs, and raise his other hand to Blaine's face to tilt his head back and kiss him deeper. 

Which is even better, really, and Blaine's mouth sort of opens around a noise that Kurt can't really make out around the rushing in his own ears, but that he really wants to hear again, so he licks over Blaine's bottom lip and groans unthinkingly when Blaine's entire mouth parts under his own. This is kissing, more than anything Kurt's read in a book or watched anyone do or thought about doing himself really, because this he can feel down his spine and into his toes, and he feels suddenly ridiculous for not letting Blaine kiss him before, even when he thought Blaine was back to just helping his house play a big joke, because this would've been worth it. 

Kurt is reluctant to even let Blaine break away when Blaine presses up against his cheek, tilting his face back. 

"Can't breath," Blaine explains, scratchy and indeed breathless. 

Kurt leans back, not to really go to stop, but just incase, except one of Blaine's hands catches him against his lower back, palm hot even though Kurt's shirt. 

"I just want to get my tie off, holy shit, Kurt," Blaine says, one big rush of words, and Kurt thinks getting his tie off is an excellent suggestion. He pulls at the knot of his own tie, realizing for the first time how dark it is at the bottom of the stairwell here, how the light from the corridor beyond is barely flickering and the light from the sky pouring down over the astronomy tower doesn't even make it down this far. He can make out Blaine, though, and when he leans forward, his own tie sliding around his neck and onto the floor around the same time Blaine's does, he can almost she the color high on Blaine's face, and that sends him pressing forward again. 

Blaine lets out something that sounds like a laugh against his lips, so Kurt drags his teeth down with the intention to be threatening, except Blaine's laugh stops and turns into a groan that Kurt definitely hears. Blaine rolls Kurt's bottom lip between his lips, slick, before bending his head and going for Kurt's neck, an unexpected development that Kurt can't do anything but arch up into as Blaine's fingers tug at the buttons on his collar. 

"Oh," Kurt says, when Blaine nuzzles his nose against the stretch of skin he uncovers and then trails his lips down, hot and open-mouthed and just enough to make Kurt want to whine from everything he's feeling, unexpected. "Blaine," he adds, a little high in his throat, because it's the only other word he can make sense of in his brain, and Blaine hums in a vibrating sort of burst against his skin that feels like a tiny little shock.

"Fuck," Blaine mumbles, still against Kurt's skin, and then he's sucking a little, the pressure something Kurt isn't ready for at all, and it takes more willpower than he has to not just press his whole body forward against Blaine. 

Just as Kurt's about to start unbuttoning the rest of his own shirt to see how Blaine's low little pleased noises would feel against the rest of his skin, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes down the corridor behind them, and Blaine straightens up just as Kurt jumps back. 

"Shit," Blaine says, all wide eyes, his lips slick in the little light around them, maybe a little more swollen than usual. It takes Kurt a second to panic. 

"We'll have to run," Blaine says, bending down quickly to grab what Kurt assumes are their ties, and then he's reaching out his hand again, like always, except this time Kurt grabs it and lets Blaine's fingers curl around his own to pull him around the opposite direction of the footsteps and run. 

They end up only getting down to the fifth floor before Kurt can't run anymore, instead ducking into a little alcove behind one of his favorite tapestries that he sound in third year and pulling Blaine in with him, falling forward and laughing breathlessly against his shoulder before he can stop himself. 

"That was a rush," Blaine says, and Kurt has no trouble picturing his face even though he's tucking against Blaine's neck. 

"We should get back to our houses," Kurt says, though he's pretty sure he'd be content with staying in this alcove the rest of the night, letting Blaine's mouth have it's way with him. 

Blaine nods against Kurt's head. "We should," he says. "Here."

There isn't any light coming in from behind the tapestry, and Kurt knows he should pull out his wand to be able to see, but Blaine's hands directing him to move back feel nice in the dark, a little overly-large against Kurt's waist. It takes Kurt a moment to figure out what Blaine is trying to do, until he can feel the way Blaine is mostly blindly buttoning up the collar of his shirt and then slipping his tie around his neck, knuckles brushing against his skin as he ties what feels like a perfect knot, despite the dark. 

"You go out first," Blaine says. "I'll save you if I hear anyone coming." 

"That doesn't make sense," Kurt says, but Blaine is already sort of pushing him out from behind the tapestry. Kurt hovers with it pushed half back, suddenly able to see more of Blaine's face, his confident but sort of secret grin, one Kurt has never seen on his face before, enough to make Kurt smile back, a pretty rare occasion. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Blaine says. "We'll practice."

Kurt nods and wonders how many different forms of practicing they might be able to fit in before something ridiculous happens, like either of them realizing how much whatever they are doing won't work out well. 

"I'll see you," Kurt says, nodding, a little bit more excited than he means to be at the thought. 

Kurt thinks about lots of ridiculous things on the way back to the dungeons, so it's a relief when he gets to the common room entrance, both from being able to get away from his own head for a moment -- walks always make him think too much -- and also to have gotten back safe. He hopes Blaine made it up to his tower without being caught, though the thought of Blaine getting detention because of him is still a thought that is rather fun to entertain.

Only the fire is glowing from the hearth when the wall seals up behind Kurt, and a quick glance around the common room is enough for Kurt to figure he's alone. He shakes his head at himself before giving in and leaning back against the cool stone, tipping his head back to grin quickly at the ceiling. 

"Well look who looks like the cat who got the cream," Santana says, her voice floating across the room with an undercurrent of a laugh. 

Kurt straightens up, squinting until he finds her lounging low in one of the deep black chairs adjacent to the fireplace, her face cast in greenish shadows thrown from the flames. 

"The question is," she continues, "who's cream?"

Kurt walks over to her, settling down next to her on the arm of the chair and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. She's progressed from slapping him for similar gestures to briefly leaning into his hand, shaking her head and looking a little world weary for the barest of moments. 

"Do you only think about sex?" Kurt asks, lightly, grinning when she reaches out to punch his side. He's not entirely safe from her wrath, but they've come a long way over the years. 

"So, did you do it?" she asks, ignoring him. 

Kurt rolls his eyes, slipping off the leather arm of the chair and extending a hand. "I'm assuming you mean duet, in which case, yes, we practiced our duet." 

Santana lets Kurt pull her up, rolling her shoulders back when she stands. "You'd be less of a bitch if you got laid, Hummel, I'm just trying to help you see the light," she says. 

"You'd be less grumpy if you had a certain Hufflepuff leggy blonde in your bed," Kurt says back, and it says a lot about how close that hits to home for Santana that she doesn't even bother hitting him or trying to curse him.

Santana stays quiet for a moment and Kurt leans against her arm, letting her shrug him off when she's ready. "Now that you've returned, my little virgin friend, I'm out. Next time I wait up for you for the juicy details, you best have some to share."

"Blaine's voice is actually very nice," Kurt says as she turns away, watching her shake her head as she walks. "Especially against my neck." 

"Not juicy enough," Santana says, not even bothering to turn around. 

"Goodnight, Santana," Kurt says, mostly sarcastic, but a little sincere. (He knows what she looks like when she doesn't sleep, up overthinking things, and for a moment he feels a little bad about bringing up Brittany with her tonight.)

Santana pauses before she reaches the girl's dormitory side of the room, turning and raising an eyebrow at Kurt. "You too. Nice tie, by the way," she says, smirking and turning back around, a little bounce in her step. 

After a brief moment of confusion, Kurt looks down at his neck and groans, reaching up to tug at the gold and red stripes around his neck. 

"That's juicy, by the way," Santana calls out. 

Kurt watches her retreating back and thinks about getting her back by mentioning the miniature charmed pygmy puff necklace she wears under her robes every day, or the yellow knit badger socks she has from when Brittany took up knitting, but he refrains, a little distracted and not wanting to try his luck more than once in a night. Even though he knows Blaine's tie is the same standard uniform issue as his own is, only different in color, it feels just a little different under his fingertips, makes heat creep up his neck. 

He messes with the knot around his throat the entire time it takes him to walk to his dormitory, tightening and loosening it, trying to replicate the way Blaine's knuckles had brushed his throat when he'd tied it on. He's pretty sure Blaine switched their ties on purpose, the more he thinks about it, and he only gets to thinking about Blaine wearing his tie, silver and green looped around his neck, all the way back up to the Gryffindor tower when he gets to his bed. 

It's a disturbingly attractive mental image that Kurt doesn't really mind thinking about when he slides between his sheets, cool against his skin like the air up against the astronomy tower and not like the way Blaine's hands had felt through his shirt at all.

  



End file.
